Father's Permission
by SmashQueen
Summary: A “what if” take on Guntz’s life. He’s a young adult and Butz is alive. He asks his father about something. On what? Take a guess. One-shot.


Couldn't help it. This was inspired by the thought of time paradoxes and what would have happened if a number of events took place, ending with Butz being alive and Janga being dead (I love cats, but I certainly do not love, or like, Janga). It's silly, but I thought this up after several days. It's also shorter than what I usually type up. I'm a little disappointed since not much is known about Butz so I'm going off on assumptions here. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a Klonoa fanfic with Guntz (a bit out of sorts since Janga's already dead and Butz is alive...yeah). Oh, and try to guess what the question on permission was before the end.

Disclaimer: Don't own Guntz or Butz (Batsu, what have you). Blah, blah. Namco Bandai blah blah. Klonoa Works blah.

* * *

Guntz stared sternly into the eyes of the man standing before him. Cobalt and cobalt locked, the orbs of the two gleaming in the light of the setting sun. The young bounty hunter couldn't back down. He had uttered the words, the one sentence before an adolescent was allowed to became a man, and now he needed an answer. The next response that was to come would either seal his fate or open the future. A lump was in his throat and he was certain that he couldn't move. Sweat would form soon and he wouldn't have it. That would be a sign of weakness, something unacceptable especially at that moment.

The aged male cracked a grin and burst out into laughter. He settled down onto the crimson motorcycle behind him, the seat worn but the finish on the machine itself was immaculate. It was no secret that the vehicle was old, yet it was a more reliable companion than most people. When others would stab "partners" in the back even over a slab of meat, the motorbike would sit patiently as its rider finished eating. The man kept his legs apart and crossed his arms over the somewhat shabby dark-brown vest over his chest.

"Of course!" he nearly boomed, a broad smirk on his face. Exhaling an unknown held breath, Guntz beamed back. The old wolf before him had a similar hue in fur to the youth's yellow and black natural scheme and he definitely had a likeness in eye color. Even if the metaphorical being Father Time had tried harder, the nonexistent entity certainty wouldn't have done much damage to the elder bounty hunter's strong outward appearance. If anything was wrong with the man, Claire knows he didn't show it. Grayed fur and slightly dulled eyes did nothing to prevent the enthusiasm and strength clearly evident in his voice.

"Do you know what you're getting into?" Butz said a bit lower, as if they were being eavesdropped on from someone within shouting distance. Guntz crossed his arms, never wavering.

"Of course I know what I'm getting into," he said, turning a cheek to his father as he craned his neck to his right in assertiveness. Small pops in the forest behind the son echoed, smashing and the escape of avians from the woods quickly ensued. None of that seemed to faze parent and offspring except for perhaps a tiny glance to the forest by Butz. He chuckled deeply, closing his eyes before staring back up at his son.

"If you say so, Guntz." He leaned over, putting his hands on his knees for support. "Just know that it's going to take a lot of work." There was a pause of gunfight from the thicket of trees and a loud feminine voice called out,

"Guntz! Where are you? We had a bet!" Butz raised an eyebrow at his son.

"A bet?" Not even of legal age – or bothered enough to lie about his true age _most_ of the time, as far as Butz knew – to be permitted in gambling parlors in Volk, Guntz already had his own ways of placing wagers. Not that pursuing people for a living was boring. By all means it could get rather ugly if one was not careful or did not use correct tactics in a tight spot. However, making stakes outside of most life-threatening situations shouldered away the tedium, and oftentimes the boredom, that came with their jobs whether out in the field or taking a break.

Guntz flicked his right hand into air carelessly.

"Target practice," he replied simply.

"Ah," his father muttered, as if that was all that was needed to understand it all. He started a little more casually, a tinge of excitement nearly twitching on the wolf's lips, "So, any idea where you'll be heading off to?" Guntz turned his head to the sun touching the earth, the two melding as night was beckoned.

"Heh," he muttered, as if it were obvious, "Wherever the road decides to lead."

"Guntz!" hollered the mystery voice again. "You better not be trying to scare me again!" Butz chuckled heartily.

"She's gotten braver," he said, finally looking behind his son at the woods for more than a second.

"Heh. But she still needs me," said Guntz, his cocky attitude never dimming. As if trying to break his sneer into a distorted mess, the voice called out once more.

"I'm going to take your turn Guntz!" she shouted, impatience brimming on every word. Twisting his torso to face the forest, the young wolf screwed up his face into something that would scare even a hardened criminal.

"I'm coming!" he yelled back, turning his attention back to his dad with his facial expression softening. Guntz shook his head ever so slightly as if willing the third person in the 'conversation' to just shut up. Butz straightened up, his hands shifting to his thighs.

"It's a strange relationship you two have," he stated. Whether he had mentioned it before or not, it still had the tone of being one of those obvious facts that no one ever really brings out into the open because it was an unspoken fact. Guntz sighed, lowering his head a bit and resting a hand on the back of his neck.

"And it's about to get even stranger," he murmured.

"Guntz!" the never-forgotten voice yelled, distinctly peeved. "Where the Hell are you?" Said wolf twisted his torso again, his feet following suit.

"I'm coming already!" he yelled back. A small 'ugh' escaped the lad's lips like the voice was a curse. He raised a hand to his father, gave one final look at him, and took off into the timberland.

"Women are insufferable," Butz called after him, his next words even louder as he put a cupped hand to his mouth. "It's a fact of life!" When his son was out of sight, Butz clasped his hands behind his head and tilted his view to the sky above. Tiny shining specks were coming into view even though the sun had not fully disappeared. His smirk shrank to that of a man lost in his thoughts.

Some time after more crashing of fragile objects and gunshots, there was a significant pause which ended with a barely audible, yet distinctly unbelievable 'what' in the distance. Butz chuckled and smiled to himself as he stared at the forming constellations and the cratered moon.

Yep. It was definitely a strange relationship.

* * *

Just to address something people may get confused over. "How could bounty hunting get boring?" If you know what you're doing and don't break a sweat, then yes it can get boring if nothing challenging comes up. As for why I didn't elaborate on things, well (1) I tend to try different writing styles sometimes, (2) I wanted the reader's imagination to wander, and (3) it's Butz. Seriously, just how much info is there on the guy? Ah well. At least I finished something...right? Review if you want. I'm tired. So very tired...

Edit: Okay, since it may not be clear, I'll say it now: Guntz asked if he could get married, getting Butz's blessing if you will. Sure, Guntz could go off and do whatever, but considering this is his father, the man Guntz respects more than anyone else, it would seem likely that he'd ask. And just who was the female? You decide. (I'm never telling since the answer's still slightly vague even to myself.)


End file.
